


Isn’t it all right not to pointlessly pretend to be strong?

by KaneNogami



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game), Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Also Nico., F/M, Misogyny gets punched in the face or rather sliced with a sword, Rei and Leo in the background!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25315945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaneNogami/pseuds/KaneNogami
Summary: Then, he feels—spinning on his feet, he almost trips at the—another monster? No, more akin to something decayed, but harmless. He knows, right away, inside his heart, that’s not evil at all. And when it holds his hands out, he immediately goes to grab them, the constant hesitation he has grown with gone without an explanation, squeezing rotten flesh—it does make a comical sound as he does so, although nobody is laughing—when the thing lets go, taking one step back, it crumbles on the ground into dust. And that’s when he notices the symbol glowing against his palm; dark helmet which vanishes too.Deafening silence surrounds him once more, as he doesn’t even dare to wipe his palms against his pants.That’s until a boy—Nico Di Angelo calls him ‘brother’ without a hesitation, and that’s how Oogami Koga learns he is the son of Hades.Of course, exactly what he needed.
Relationships: Narukami Arashi/Oogami Kouga
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Enstars Rarepair Week





	Isn’t it all right not to pointlessly pretend to be strong?

**Author's Note:**

> My knowledge of this fandom comes from reading some of the books last year and the wiki, therefore, I'm aware some parts will not be completely accurate to canon. Nonetheless, I hope you'll enjoy this. 
> 
> Written for Enstars Rarepair Week day 2 - Crossover

Koga’s whole existence goes to shit before he reaches the sweet age of thirteen; _teenage drama_ sounding naive in comparison to his destiny being thrown out of balance within the span of ten minutes. It happens after school, a couple of weeks before his birthday, a blur of gray invading his vision right before he ends on the ground, a deep cut across his cheek. He’s, instinctively—it pulses against his skin, pain and blood dripping until it reaches his jaw—aware of danger, of the fact he has to scramble back onto his feet and flee. His muscles refuse to cooperate, limbs unsteady and terrified as he stares at the monster—creature made of smoke or bones, he isn’t certain, probably both, as if there were a veil over his eyes, preventing the truth from being seen.

He’d like to pretend, twelve and fierce, that he defeated the evil on his own, courage blossoming through his veins. It’s not the case. The person rescuing him is an annoying upperclassman, Sakuma, who holds out his hand with the kind expression of an adult who witnessed a child being stupid and can’t bear to scold them for it. He glares, scornful voice rising as the other doesn’t offer an explanation, merely holding a short dagger in his hand, dark blade so-well polished he can perfectly witness his terrified expression reflecting on it. What happened, he asks, aware it’s pointless, Sakuma merely putting the dagger back in his pocket, reminding him to be more careful before leaving. Had his legs not felt like jelly he would have ran after him.

(Still, that was a badass move, the way the older boy stepped between the monster and him, slicing right through the beast without hesitation.

Tch, what a show-off.)

Back home, he tells his mother, so she doesn’t think he is getting into trouble on purpose, out of fear too, fingers still shaking as she sits him down on the couch to clean his wound. And that’s when her hands still, as if she had been aware of this grand scheme years before him.

There is a story he doesn’t wish to learn, fine with how it has always been the two of them, united against the world. He cannot stop her though, when she leans forward, gently pressing a band-aid against his cheek; there will be a faint scar for sure, considering how deep it is.

“Your father”, she starts, “is—”

At school, the next day, he walks straight to Sakuma’s classroom, borrowing the half-asleep boy to drag him to an empty room. He planned on the roof, but the other likes to claim he’s allergic to the sun, and he isn’t eager to prove that claim by ending with a lobster by his side.

Their conversation is more of a one-sided monologue to which he is forced to listen—a hint of misery on the other’s tongue while he narrates who they are, and the consequences of such thing. Sakuma Rei, he learns, is the son of Omoikane, Japanese deity of wisdom and intelligence. However, Koga is something else entirely, belonging to some place he has never heard of, only because her mother met some moron during her travels when she was younger.

There was a promise, made a long time ago, Sakuma explains, sitting on an abandoned desk, one leg crossed over the other, that some gods would avoid bringing more children in this world, prophecies and all. And why should it concern me, he immediately snaps, I didn’t ask to be born in the first place. Sakuma seems to find the reply amusing, taking the dagger from their previous encounter out of his pocket. Once again, he should take this as a warning, an order for his legs to carry him away. Yet, he stands frozen, even as it presses against the large band-aid on his cheek, almost cutting through it. Unable to breathe, he spends a moment wondering why he cannot do anything at all, why his body has decided to betray the rage growing underneath his ribs, pushing organs in a way so uncomfortable he is on the verge of throwing up.

However, rather than harming him, Sakuma—that fool—opts to grab his hand instead, pushing the dagger against his palm until his nerves accept to close his fist around it.

“A gift”, the oldest explains, “to protect yourself from dark omens. Or to welcome them, if you desire so.”

And then—he steps away with a yawn, muttering about needing a nap to avoid all this terrible sunlight.

Koga doesn’t know if he has a crush on the older boy, or if he wants to punch him.

Probably both.

Plane tickets—one to return home—arrive a couple of days later, ignoring the fact he still has school for a while before he’s free for vacations, or whatever this shit is supposed to be. His mother, shaking her head, explains that’s fine, that he is basked in something strong enough to allow him to bypass these rules. Which, if Koga has to be honest, makes as much sense as—oh wait, that whole damn school has people like him, probably. After all, Sakuma stepped right as he was attacked after passing the gates. And—nothing else happened since. He has questions, they burn his tongue, leaving him unable to say anything; he hates when his brain does that, when all he wants is to focus on music, blaring the sound as loud as possible from his headphones until everything else is washed away by screams and the beat.

“I’ll go to this stupid camp,” he growls, grabbing the brochure which was in the letter alongside the tickets. Not even a goddamn message inside the envelop though. Who does his father think he is? _Some kind of deadbeat who didn’t bother saying hello during all these years_ , that’s all Koga knows.

Fun fact, Delphi Strawberry Service is the worst name he has ever heard, and which also makes no damn sense even with his phone translating each word to confirm that first assessment—he gets why his mother registered him to so many English after-school classes now though. She was bracing herself for such thing to happen. He’s bitter, not that it’s going to last. Kids are running around, most older than he is, shouting at each other and being generally not surprised by having a newcomer suddenly dropping in. Must be the escort which helps, some weird guy—who is a satyr, a whole species that he knows nothing about, by the way—having picked him up at the airport. Does this shit happen often, he wants to ask, without daring to. First of all, his English skills are mostly located in reading comprehension, when he doesn’t mix up words, and talking is on a completely different level.

He still does the whole campfire thing, sitting with all these weird strangers—with their fast paced sentences he doesn’t get because there are no damn subtitles when people talk—who keep on asking questions he answers with ‘hm’ and ‘yeah’ because that’s the amount of focus he has left for that day. However, everyone is apparently waiting for something, which he doesn’t understand. It’s too late for a visit of the whole place, a counselor explains, but tomorrow morning he’ll get a long, and probably boring tour.

Koga would—he’d like to be more enthusiastic, and less disgruntled by the amount of change he had to endure over the past weeks. Being the child of a god, what kind of joke is that? He glares, arms wrapped around himself, at the fire burning in front of him. If it were a Japanese deity, he would be with Sakuma somewhere, and at least that bastard is familiar, like the dagger, his sole shield against this whole place now. The blade, hidden in his boot, in a way which is a lot more uncomfortable than anticipated, doesn’t exactly bring a sense of safety until that point though.

(He should be worried that the metal gates at the airport didn’t even detect it.)

As he suddenly jolts back onto his feet, ready to throw hands with whoever will be the closest and more willing to tell him he doesn’t belong—he never did, with his hair too white, and bad attitude, always getting scolded by teachers for being behind his peers, unable to fit in properly. That’s unfair, he tried to dye his hair black before, more than once, only for it to revert to its initial shade the next morning. Come to think of it, that should have been a sign—until the whole group goes silent at once, campers and counselors alike.

He blinks at their stillness, failing to understand how he offended everyone so fast.

Then, he feels—spinning on his feet, he almost trips at the—another monster? No, more akin to something decayed, but harmless. He knows, right away, inside his heart, that’s not evil at all. And when it holds his hands out, he immediately goes to grab them, the constant hesitation he has grown with gone without an explanation, squeezing rotten flesh—it does make a comical sound as he does so, although nobody is laughing—when the thing lets go, taking one step back, it crumbles on the ground into dust. And that’s when he notices the symbol glowing against his palm; dark helmet which vanishes too.

Deafening silence surrounds him once more, as he doesn’t even dare to wipe his palms against his pants.

That’s until a boy—

Nico Di Angelo calls him ‘brother’ without a hesitation, and that’s how Oogami Koga learns he is the son of Hades.

Of course, exactly what he needed.

It’s only them, and a couple of ghosts, departed children who didn’t make it, in the cabin. What Sakuma mentioned, about a pact of not having more children how could have he known it would refer to Koga? That’s the kind of mystery he opts to avoid at all costs. He has a half-brother—that’s an oddity, unplanned, although some of the campers seem to have an array of those and he’s fine with only one thank you very much. Nico, with his almost unnatural pale skin, and somewhat—distance? He isn’t certain of how to put it into words—is so different from him. He doesn’t mind though. Having someone to tell him good night before he goes to bed in that foreign place actually helps lessening his fears.

He has many; and also a burning need to face his ‘dad’ to tell him what a lousy job he has done, especially if there was a prophecy, luckily not a problem any longer, banning him from having kids for an excellent reason.

The Arts & Crafts Center becomes a refuge early on, a place where he doesn’t have to—be forced to do things he doesn’t care about. Some campers seem wary and he cannot tell if it’s because his English isn’t yet good enough, or merely based on his parentage. He is oddly better at Ancient Greek than anticipated though, because apparently his brain is naturally more at ease with that. Out of pure spite, he does take half of his notes in Japanese anyway. He doesn’t want to have more trouble with his mother tongue than—his father tongue? Is this the right expression? Koga couldn’t care less. He spends his free time there, writing notes on music sheets. Music is a form of art, one older girl tells him happily, while providing all the supplies he needs, and then she is gone and he is alone at the table, in relative peace.

Said peace lasts exactly three minutes.

“May I sit next to you?”

It takes him a moment to realize the person is speaking in Japanese, and his neck cracks from the brutal way he lifts his head to stare at—a girl he has never noticed before? She’s holding fabric in her arms, alongside what he assumes to be a sewing kit, and before he can think ‘there isn’t enough space for your stuff’ he has already nodded.

Perhaps out of loneliness; that’s difficult to be here, to deal with any of this. Of course, he has Nico, when the guy isn’t busy with important camp stuff, or hanging with his boyfriend—he told Koga with such hesitation in his voice, that all he could think of was ‘if I tell him it’s weird, he’ll be way too sad’. And anyway, he doesn’t care, Will seems to be cool, when he is around—that’s not enough to soothe how homesick he is though.

“Arashi Naru, daughter of Aphrodite,” she introduces herself, a hint of mischief in her gaze surrounded by blue powder.

“Which one is Aphrodite?” He blurts out without thinking, been the norm lately, “Love or something?”

“Yes, you got it. You’re a son of Hades.”

“’Veryone knows that already,” that’s embarrassing, to have more or less caused a diplomatic incident upon being claimed. The damn last thing he needed in his life, if you ask him, “Oogami Koga.”

“Pleasure meeting you, Koga.”

Oh yeah, everyone is on a first name basis around the camp. It makes his skin crawls like thinking about home does, the ache causing him to scribble music notes on the wrong line, only to have to erase them furiously with an eraser which is going to leave a hole, as usual.

“Careful with that~”

“Shut up and focus on sewing or whatever,”

They’re off to a fantastic start.

Turns out, there is an Oracle who can give out quests, where people usually die if they don’t respect a sacred number (three) or simply due to the fact these missions often include such level of danger that Koga can’t keep a straight face upon hearing about them. He has no reason to ever get a prophecy, nor he wants one, so he avoids the topic, watching heroes depart with a scornful expression. That’s stupid, to risk your life like that—he is a coward, loud and brash, yet too afraid of what his mother would say if he didn’t return back safely at the end of Summer—that’s coincidentally when he learns that some half gods remain here during the whole year, which makes sense, as some don’t have a family.

Arashi ‘Too proud of herself for her own good’ Narakumi is like him, returning to Japan for the school year. Which is somewhat a relief. Not that he intends on being too friendly. She’s a show-off, he notes after only a couple of days, prideful of the permanent makeup she wears, or how amazing she is. Aphrodite’s kids must all be like that, he decides, not quite thirteen yet and still ranking cabins based on how interesting he finds them. The dagger remains inside his boot or under his pillow most of the time, and he pretends to find interest in weapon practice when he does not, afraid of damaging his hands and being unable to play the guitar anymore.

In itself, his first Summer is pretty uneventful.

He does come home to a letter from his father though. A long one, congratulating him one month late for turning into a proper teenager, and that he is will watch his growth carefully. There is a box on the bed, one made of wood with runes engraved all around them. That’s your present, the bottom of the letter reads, a creature from the underworld, cousin of a great beast which you will read about in legends, it will take the form which fits you. As if he had the time to read books about his damn da—fine, he totally does that. Expecting the worst, as that seems to be the norm with anything related to gods, he throws the letter on the bed, climbing on the cover to slam the box open.

Koga lets out a soft gasp at the corgi staring at him, tongue out and adorable ears twitching. Sure, one would notice eyes as dark as onyx, or the teeth too pointy to be natural, even on a canine. Fuck it, all the child sees is his new best friend right here. He immediately lifts the beast from the underworld into his arms, and straight to the sky.

“You’re—Leon, yeah. You like that?”

Obviously, he does.

Sakuma returns alongside the rest of the school in September, another semester starting as if some students hadn’t missed parts of the previous one. Leon walks him to class, although he isn’t permitted inside the building, and that asshole mocks him lightly for it.

“Two dogs together, how precious, it does stir emotions in my decaying heart.”

“Fuck off, Sakuma.”

They start eating lunch together, for no reason other than Koga is willing to go through a lot to have someone who can understand by his side. He avoids questions, the ones about Sakuma’s natural tendency to be aware of facts which shouldn’t be common knowledge, opting to babble about music; the sole topic they appear to agree on. At some point, that bastard gives him an old guitar, lamenting he cannot be in sync with it properly any longer, and Koga starts fearing he can read minds on top of the rest.

At least now, he has a guitar, one which belongs to him and not to the guy he takes lessons from.

As for his own powers—baby steps. Sliding into darkness and being one with the shadows is almost amusing, who is he kidding, it’s so fun, he loves it! The necromancy part gives him the creeps, and it’s complicated to mention it to Nico, even via letters, as he doesn’t want to offend his older brother by sounding like he isn’t into the family business. He does sense death though, getting sidetracked on his way home certain evenings, only to find an ambulance badly parked in a corner, or a bird which won’t fly ever again.

“That sucks,” he confesses to Leon, throwing a ball as far as possible on the empty street, watching the beast runs with a speed which shouldn’t be possible with such tiny legs, “hey be careful, you’re a normal dog, gotcha?”

At least officially. To Koga, Leon is the most extraordinary being on Earth.

His second Summer at the camp, he grows restless; unable to progress at Ancient Greek, sucking at archery beyond what’s acceptable. Everyone expects him to be—legendary, you’re the son of Hades, you’ll do great! That’s what his mom said in second grade, except it was about her owning a flower shop and that assignment where he had to keep a plant alive for one month. All he remembers is bawling his eyes out after forgetting to water it for one week and it died pitifully. So, he isn’t keen on being a hero or any of that.

He steps inside the Fighting Arena because that’s part of the schedule, not out of eagerness to get his ass kicked. He is holding a sword too heavy for his height, swinging it without much elegance. He got paired with Arashi, badly hiding his surprise at the fact that Aphrodite’s children seem able to use weapons. He’s being a judgmental bastard, not that he cares much. Especially as Arashi doesn’t seem more talented than he is.

At least, that’s his first impression. The second is that she is definitely playing him. While Koga doesn’t freeze randomly in front of danger any longer, he isn’t at ease on a battlefield, struggling to remember distances and the whole having to parry business. Arashi—she—is pretending to suck. He doesn’t notice right away, it’s only as they kept dodging each other blows, her feet solidly hitting the ground without hesitation whereas he is doing his best not to lose his balance, that he understands.

“You’re going easy on me!” He growls, switching the weapon to both hands, raising it in what ends up being a bold attack with no chance of success.

Startled, she immediately raises her sword to push him back, doing so effortlessly with one hand.

“I’m not!”

“Liar! I hate people like you!”

That’s a poor choice of words, although he fails to see why, as her demeanor immediately shifts. He watches, helpless, when she sprints forward, disarming him with a single hit. Fuck that, fuck her and her prettiness—she distracted him, that’s all.

Ah, he sounds so fucking lame sometimes.

“I won, loser.”

He isn’t quite hot-headed enough to beg for a rematch.

An uneasiness blooms underneath his skin as he leaves the arena.

It’s only days later, one evening where he is playing the guitar in the cabin, Nico humming along to a song which still has no lyrics, that he understands why he is stupid. It does not exactly come from Nico or him, that would have been too easy. In fact, one of the strings breaks, almost slamming into his face, if not for quick reflexes he only has against inanimate objects apparently, forcing him to stop playing. He’ll have to ask people at the Arts & Crafts Center for new ones, as he apparently forgot to pack enough. It’s a bit late, although he might have enough time, thus he waves to Nico before slipping outside. A couple of campers are singing around the campfire, completely out of key, if he may say.

The center is almost empty, when he slips inside, missing Leon. He’s the brightest dog Koga has ever met, able to fetch him anything if he asks politely for it—including a weird-ass incident with a human hand that he still cannot explain. Sometimes, English sayings, like ‘lend me a hand’, don’t seem to work well on Leon.

Darkness is kind of his element, thus he slides in the shadows with ease, heading right for the corner where instruments are kept, only to stop dead in his tracks; sitting on the floor, without enough light to do anything, especially not needle work, Arashi is trying to—fix something, for the look of it? He did hit her shoulder with the blade during their fight, her armor absorbing the blow. She had a sleeveless jacket underneath though and maybe he—

On one hand, that’s not his problem. One the other, for her to do it alone at such hour… Must be something wrong.

Koga loathes the grief he is able to feel for others only once they are gone, out of his grasp. It’s as if he could hurt anybody on a whim, uncaring until noticing blood stains on the floor and his hands. That’s either something he got from Hades, a form of brutal sorrow which turns him into an asshole, or that’s just how he is. Either way, he despises cruelty, even his own.

He steps out, wood creaking underneath his weight.

“Yo, guitar strings,” he immediately adds, as he doesn’t wish to sound like a stalker on top of the rest.

She slowly raises her gaze, perfect makeup not enough to conceal tears from view. He does hope that’s not his doing.

“Yo, sewing,” she replies with a meek voice, obviously not in the mood for an argument. They had a few of those, over the past times they crossed paths.

He carefully makes his way past her, grabbing what he needs without asking for permission; that’s for everyone, right? And if the strings don’t fit, he’ll bring them back the following morning.

Rather than fleeing; he has never been that talented at that, legs akin to butter, mouth filled with cotton when faced with adversity, he drops in front Aphrodite’s daughter, crossing his legs on the floor.

“You won fair and square,” he has to pull the words off his mouth akin to rotten teeth one doesn’t want to touch in fear of pain, “the other day.”

“That didn’t seem to matter to you.”

“I’m—I—”

“Are apologies such a daunting task to perform for you?”

“Yeah, they totally are,” he rubs the back of his back, nails painted in black gently scratching skin, “I’m a sore loser, sorry.”

“Thank you,” she abandons her work, needle and thread forgotten on the floor, to press her thumbs underneath her eyes, brushing treacherous tears away.

“Didn’t realize you were that upset about that, hm...”

“You hate people like me, you said.”

“People who look down on others—it’s what I meant.”

A pregnant silence steals air from his lungs, as Arashi shoulder shake, face covered in her hands. He isn’t certain she’s laughing or crying. Perhaps neither.

“We both misunderstood,” she eventually admits, a dejected expression on her face when she lowers her hands, “If I’m too strong, people could make comments, that I shouldn’t—I don’t—belong.”

“In your cabin?”

The hand gesture she offers, wrist rotating in the air, is far from an explanation.

“As a girl.”

“What.”

Truly, eloquence isn’t his strongest asset. She allows him a moment to gather his bearings, putting pieces together until—he has really fucked up, hm.

“Bleh, Ares’ kids are way stronger and some of them are girls. Nobody cares,” he speaks too fast, unable to fixate his brain on a coherent response. That’s not exactly the point, he is aware. “Have people every said that stuff to you? At camp, I mean.”

“As if Piper would let that happen. Nonetheless—”

“There’s an edge to that, you worry they could do it one day. It’s what ya’ mean?”

“Yes, I’m sure it won’t happen, yet—”

“You completely fucked my words over, like I did with yours. Amazin’,” he cuts her off, “ Camp Half-Blood seems pretty accepting, so—I mean, they’re fine with me being like the son of Hades.”

“That’s indeed stranger than my situation,” Arashi chuckles, probably feeling better if she’s able to joke about this.

“That sucks though, that you can’t go all out during fights, you’re pretty cool—like this move you did with your sword, sliding it under mine and then disarming me.”

He makes a valiant attempt at recreating the scene while remaining on the floor, which must look ridiculous. Arashi doesn’t appear to mind much, hiding her amusement behind the back of a hand.

“I totally judged you—like for being pretty and shit, as if you can’t wear make up and kick my ass. I totally got owned.”

“Honestly, you kind of deserved it.”

He won’t argue with that.

“Wanna star’ over? You, me, friendship and stuff?”

The hesitation isn’t as hurtful as he feared. In fact, he welcomes it, akin to the way he lets shadows twirl around his back, nesting against it until they are comfortable. Arashi is—a daughter of Aphrodite, she is way stronger than he is, and it’s not a big deal, if he stops being a jealous crybaby.

“I’m Naru, and I’d love to spar against you again, if you allow me.”

A hand is held out in his direction, a beacon of friendship he is willing to accept this time around. He squeezes it with all his might, grinning.

“I’m Koga, and I’d love that.”

“Oh, masochist much?”

“One day I’mma beat you, just watch!”

On Koga’s third Summer at camp, he brings Leon the Ultimate Hellhound Corgi with him. His mother will be fine without his protection, Sakuma assured, and he’s willing to trust the guy. While the rules about pets are a little odd, due to the nature of some of them, he manages to get Leon in without trouble. Nothing fun like watching him race after a group of kids from the Ares cabin who dared to mock his greatness.

Also, he decides to visit the Oracle. Bold move, for sure. He goes after a sparring session with Naru, once they have showered and changed into more comfortable outfits. That’s when she pulls a sleeveless jacket from behind her back, black with a couple of death-related patches sewed on one side. He supposes it’s a present for his birthday, since it is today.

“Fuck, you sewed it yourself? It’s so damn good, thanks!”

He is especially fond of the giant skull on the back, family pride or something. Hades’ helmet wouldn’t have looked at good honestly, no offense to his old man.

She’s beaming—they have both grown a lot, he realizes. She’s less full of herself, kinder with others. And he has stopped being a fucking asshole who believes people don’t want to befriend him due to his parentage. Apparently Nico pulled the same stunt on his fellow campers a couple of years prior, so he ain’t too mortified about it.

About growing up—Naru sure is getting taller. He cannot blame her, that’s actually pretty cool when he wants to reaches high stuff, not that he is short himself, but it’s annoying to bend his neck back to look at her. She’s his friend by that point, he guesses. And it’s cool. Leon took an immediate liking to her, in spite of Naru being a cat person; ah even the greatest individuals have flaws.

After thanking her twice more, and avoiding to say his present to himself is the red choker he’s wearing, and which matches perfectly with Leon’s collar, he makes his way to the Oracle, not expecting much.

Guess who ends up with an impossible quest where he could die? It’s him.

And unlike the previous years, he’s really proud of being part of that. Of Camp Half-Blood.

Before Koga’s arrival, there was a boy called Leo, who was also Japanese, son of—apparently it was before the rule of acknowledging kids was made mandatory so they have no clue—who got lost and was never found in some ancient cave. The Oracle seemed to insinuate, for what he understood, he was alive and waiting for a rescue. Then, followed the part about terrible peril, bla bla bla. He appoints Naru and Leon as his companions for the journey, arguing loudly that yes Leon counts as a person. As long as there are three brave adventurers on board with this deadly plan, nobody’s allowed to complain, dammit!

The cave is a hidden gem, tucked away from civilization, overgrown forest blocking the entrance until Naru slashes thin branches with her sword. No one is watching, thus she can go all out. And, honestly, even if there were at camp, Koga would encourage her to do the same. Nobody cares, and he still doesn’t like liars, even if he understands her reasons for behaving like this for so long. Ah old habits are a pain.

Tunnels worm their way under the earth, without an exact destination. They aren’t even certain of what it was created for, or by whom. The walls are rough underneath their hands, water dripping here and there, causing them to remove their fingers to shake them. Realizing that he can mostly see in darkness, although Naru certainly cannot, he steps at the front of their little trio, extending a hand towards her.

“If we don’t use a torch, our enemies won’t be able to see us coming.”

“Clever,” she hums, accepting to rely on him as his guide.

That’s a huge step, he supposes, for someone who—didn’t trust him the previous year, because he was an idiot. Anyway, her eyes will end up adjusting too, since it’s not pitch black. Engraved deep into the walls, shimmering stones produce a hint of light, mix of blue and purple which reflect into his eyes when he stares for too long. It seems to be more and more of them as they progress, thus the whole hand holding business kind of seems unnecessary.

Neither of them is letting go though.

The floor is uneven, causing them to be thrown out of balance more than once, not that it matters. They let Leon pick the way for them at each intersection; that’s why he is here, to find a trail of something alive in this mess. Which might seem odd, as he a creature from the Underworld, more at ease with tracking bodies and lost souls misplaced from their corpse. That’s their best chance, otherwise it’ll take them years to explore the whole place.

“Why did you pick me?”

“Hm? Isn’t it obvious? Ya’ my friend, I trust you.”

“My powers are not the most useful or this though~”

“Don’t let yourself down, you’re my knight—is knight gender neutral? Fuck I hope it is—just use your sword so I don’t get killed or somethin’.”

“You’re great at motivating others, Koga.”

“I—guess, yeah.”

In his opinion, he’s talented at turning himself into a fool.

He appreciates the sentiment anyway.

What happens is that they eventually reach a narrow corridor whose walls, sharp and rough, glowing with what appear to be dozen of the stones they saw on the way, barely allow them to pass through. Koga would rather find another way in, if not for Leon going forward without awaiting for him to even formulate the thought out loud. Cursing, he has to slip in, several hard parts of the walls leaving cuts on his clothes and skin. He hears a loud hiss from Naru behind him, and once they finally emerge in what appears to be a spacious room, his first reaction is to turn around to make sure she is fine.

Which is a callous mistake; he doesn’t pay attention to the throne inside the room, nor the marble table, whose surface hasn’t been treated well by passing years and dust, covered with mismatching items and weapons, beckoning wanderers closer.

“Are you—”

“Behind you!”

Out of the three of them, the fastest to react is Leon, aiming directly for the jugular of the—Draugr? Now is not the time to fail mythology class—which is unfortunate since the creature doesn’t appear to still have one. A bone or two will do. Hellhounds are beasts of the Underworld, feared by most half-bloods, Koga is aware of that. Leon is special nonetheless, due to his appearance, to the fact his father made him in a way which wouldn’t force him to be clouded by the fog all the time.

“Leon, fetch!” He shouts, Naru showing off a deep cup on the back of her hand as her main injury from the tunnel. Nothing life-threatening, although that’s her dominant hand for the sword—

When shadows start gliding towards them from the sides of the room, it’s obvious their choice of fighting or not isn’t up to them. What are these masked creatures? Leeches? That’s a lot for one trip. Naru is less on the fence about what to do than him, unsheathing her blade and slicing through anything coming too close to her liking. Much better than Koga’s own fighting style, namely rolling and dodging.

He has a weapon though. The dagger, even if he has never used it, feels perfectly against his palm; it has an unwanted consequence of immediately attracting the Draugr’s attention too. Oh, yeah these things collect magical items, hence the table. “Leon, I’m taking that one, focus on the motherfucking shadows!”

...And how is he gonna do that? In three years at camp, he has not even once won a practice fight—to be fair, most of them were against Naru, and she is definitely champion material—and it’s not that useless dagger Sakuma offered that’s going to save his life.

While he wastes time pondering over his own strength, the Draugr is creeping closer step by step, leaving him with no other choice than run across the room. Ducking behind the throne to avoid being grabbed. While he is being a coward once more, Naru, sword in both hands—one covered in blood from swinging her weapon with an injury—has climbed on the table, kicking artifacts out of the way to hit the remaining monsters.

She’s so cool.

_Fuck, the Draugr._

What the creature seeks is his weapon, judging by where his gaze lands. Not that he is willing to part with such an important gift from a friend. Under his feet, something rough cause him to faceplant. He sits up with a groan, noticing that he is in the middle of—bones? Oh, certainly explorers who met a cruel fate in this room. He can only hope that Leo’s isn’t among them.

As a bony hand grabs his hair, twisting his neck so badly he is afraid his spine will break, his brain connects the dots. Bones. Dead bodies. Death. That’s his jam, isn’t it? Well, it’s supposed to be at least.

How does any of this meant to work?

As teeth get closer to his throat, the Draugr’s free hand reaching for the dagger, Koga grins. A malicious expression, teeth barred at the monster in what is definitely power play. Sakuma wouldn’t have given him a boring weapon for comfort. There was a reason; in the same vein that the other knew who he was from the start. Therefore.

Therefore.

He lets out a scream, plunging the weapon in the ground, in the midst of that pitiful graveyard.

The floor shakes, causing the creature to release him. There is blood on his scalp, not that he cares. As the temperature drops around him, bones start to find one another, forming into what were once people. The kind holding grudges against the tormentor, he hopes, gesturing towards the Draugr with his hand. “Get him.”

And they do.

The aftermath isn’t pretty.

That’s what happens, during quests—a price to pay to win. He puts to sleep one skeleton after another, promising they won’t be used for that either again, while blood drips on the side on face until he has to keep an eye closed. That thing had claws, apparently. Once he is done, unsteady on his feet, the dagger pressed so harshly in his palm that the mark it left won’t disappear anytime soon, he crouches down.

And cry.

He can feel it—all the grief which saturates the room to the point he can barely hold himself together—this place reeks of death, not the one meant to happen, filled with a sense of comfort and nostalgia. It’s brutal, cutting off his oxygen. Arms wrap around his shoulders from his back, and he leans, he abandons himself against Naru—Fuck he must look ridiculous. Leon whines against his knees and he scratches him absentmindedly behind the ear, unsure of what they should go now.

“’Wasn’t useless,” he mumbles, as Naru takes out a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his face.

“You’re never useless, Koga.”

He feels lips pressing against his forehead, and there is a myriad of things he could do—kissing her back, on the cheek or perhaps the lips, saying ‘I love you’, slowly removing himself from her grasp to show he is fine—and he ends up doing none of them.

“’m fine. You?”

“I’ll live,” she shows the bandage she already wrapped around her hand. He must have been lost for a while, if she had enough time to do that.

“Cool.”

Blood is sticky against his head, even after they try to wash it off with their water bottle. He sniffles, rubbing his nose against his arm, before deciding they have to go on. None of the skeleton belonged to Leo… He can tell, even if he lacks the words to express it.

Behind the throne, while he leans on Naru, exhaustion having taken over, they find another room, glowing runes everywhere, covering every each off the walls. It’s blinding, worse than the tunnel earlier, and they struggle to keep their eyes open, having to follow Leon and his barking to navigate. They end up colliding against a door made out of magic, pulsing against their palms, and so tall that their fingers cannot find out high it reaches.

“How the fuck do we open it?”

The answer comes from Leon, whose little paws are heard leaving and then returning. Unable to take a look at what’s happening, Koga extends a hand, only for his friend to drop something spherical. It’s extremely warm, as big as his palm, almost burning him and he isn’t sure of what to do with the object. Once it touches the door however, it seems to melt against the magic, being swallowed, and they await. Until they realize the door is gone.

Tentatively, Koga opens an eye, relieved that this room isn’t at terrible as the previous one. In fact, it offers a completely different feeling, as the only runes are on the uneven ceiling, acting as if they were standing underneath a sea of stars. It’s absolutely stunning, enough for Koga to forget he can barely stand on his own. He glances at Naru, at the way the lights play against her cheeks and eyes. It’s—

“Wooooah!”

The voice causes him to almost meet his father on the spot.

Crouched down in a corner of the room, a piece of chalk in hand, there is someone—bright ginger hair, incredibly long, and drawings which appear to have been erased and done again and again behind him. Leo.

“A knight!” He points to Naru, and he wonders why the nickname suits her so well, and then to Koga, “I have no idea who you are.”

It’s kind of anticlimactic, although it gets a strangled laugh out of the son of Hades, who offers his hand like someone did for him a long time ago.

“I’m Koga, my friend’s Naru, let’s go home we’re fucking tired.”

“Home? Oh yes! Camp! I can tell them about—This.”

Leo is unsteady on his feet, having survived by feeding on the magic of the room. He hasn’t aged either, based on what they have been told about him. Which isn’t too weird, for the camp’ standards at least. While he appears thin and his clothes are torn, there is a spark in his eyes and a smile on his face. Koga gestures for Naru that he can stand, so she can help him instead. After all, he lacks the strength to do so, exhausted by his little stunt from earlier.

As they go back to the throne room, he notices a figure sitting on it; one who has Leon on his lap. At some point after they unlocked the door, he went back, and now Koga understands why.

“Father,” he offers, lamely. What else is there to say to Hades, God of the Underworld?

“You still have a lot to accomplish.”

_That’s not a fucking ‘g_ _ood job_ _son,’_ he groans internally, not daring to voice that.

“I’m trying, with my powers and all—Nico helps.”

The mention of his oldest son seems to soften the steel gaze, if only a little. Better than nothing. He is surprised, for what he learned about his dad, that the god had an affair with his mother, considering how faithful he usually is. Ah, that’s not his problem, as long as Persephone doesn’t attempt to murder him in his sleep. Or turn him into a tree, that seems to be a fun punishment around there.

“Close your eyes. All of you.”

He does so, like his companions, at least he hopes that they do, for their sake. And when he opens them again, they are standing in front of the cave, the dampness of morning infiltrating their clothes at once.

He might have heard a ‘I’m eager to see who you’ll become’, before Hades vanished. Although it might have been his wishful imagination. Either way, they have to walk home now. What a drag.

By the time they have returned, and he has taken three showers to remove all traces of blood from his hair, the campers are reunited around the campfire, listening to Leo talking about—might be aliens, but he isn’t sure. Hey, spending years alone trapped in a cave must have consequences. What he notes though, is the hyacinth crown perched on top of his head.

“He was claimed while you showered,” Naru explains, patting the spot she saved for him, her skin is impeccable, make up hiding the hazardous journey they just went through, and it’s a little bit unfair.

Ah, he doesn’t mind that much.

She tugs him closer, until he is resting with his head against her shoulder, and he lets himself drift away, lulled to sleep by laughter and the feeling that they have accomplished something great.

“I love you,” she whispers against his ear.

“M’kay,” he replies, not truly registering what’s being said, falling asleep seconds later.

Oh, they have time to address that tomorrow morning, don’t they?


End file.
